


blade in my hand

by annadavidson



Series: that which shaped the century (a dragon age dual au) [18]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Dragon Age AU, Dragon Age Dual AU, Dual AU, Gen, Post-Trespasser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 08:25:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11414019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annadavidson/pseuds/annadavidson
Summary: Steel hit magic as Rasha brought his blade up to block the blow.Summary: Learning to adapt for better or worse.





	blade in my hand

Steel hit magic as Rasha brought his blade up to block the blow. The spirit blade of Galen’s sword bounced back, causing its wielder to stagger a few paces. Rasha, while highly skilled with a blade, wasn’t a master, but even he could tell that something was clearly off about Galen’s stance and the way he held his sword. He couldn’t summon a spirit blade, but he was fairly certain the blade didn’t hold any weight and the hilt wasn’t all that heavy. Even ignoring that, he knew it wasn’t the sword that was throwing his friend off.

Galen was trying to learn how to fight one-handed. He had exercises he performed by himself to try to use his staff and then his spirit blade with one hand. He had always been used to wielding the sword one-handedly, often summoning it with his staff in his other hand. But having to wield it and not have his staff as a backup weapon was clearly rough. Wielding his staff was harder, though. Galen had often gripped it with both hands – after all, it was heavier than his spirit blade.

His sparring partner changed daily – sometimes a couple times a day depending on how much energy he had. He’d sparred against Ai and Zhen with mage and had clashed blades with Zhen, a fellow knight enchanter. He’d also sparred with Bailey, wanting to see how he could stand against an agile rogue. He’d made it clear that for this he didn’t want to spar against Nova, Elaith, or Arven, fearing that either of those three would go easy on him.

The only thing that kept Rasha from holding back was the fact that he was already seeing enough of his  _lethallin_  angered and frustrated. He didn’t have any words to make Galen’s fears and worries go away. He didn’t know how to comfort him. So if striking out with his sword, bearing down with all his strength helped Galen focus, helped him feel better, then he didn’t think he could refuse. It was either that or continue to feel utterly useless.

He could see the frustration dripping off Galen like sweat even before the fight had begun. It made Galen extremely uncomfortable to do anything without his prosthetic. If it was up to him, he’d sleep in it. But Elaith, who had become the new healer of Skyhold, had made it clear that he shouldn’t wear it all the time. So he needed to learn how to fight without it.

They fought barefooted on the grass, surrounded by their mutual friends and other members of the Blades of Hessarian.

Before the battle, Rasha had eyed the Blades he hadn’t recognized. He knew what they saw when they looked at Galen. They saw an elven mage – someone who many of them had thought of as too soft to lead them. Now they saw him as broken – as too weak to lead. Rasha thought it was only a matter of time before someone challenged Galen, believing they would be a better leader. Even after all that time that he was Inquisitor, people still underestimated Galen.

Rasha thought underestimating Galen was a tragic mistake to make.

Galen’s frustration was etched into his movements, making his fighting sloppy. A few times Galen moved as if to use his left arm – the one he now lacked. Each time he realized his own mistake, the face he made tore at Rasha’s heart. While Rasha had moved on from any romantic feelings he’d had for the other elf in the past, he had come to love him like a brother. He didn’t like to see him in any kind of pain or struggle.

They both had their long hair tied up, out of their faces. They wore simple pants, bare feet, and were bare chested. Rasha was admittedly glad they were doing it inside Skyhold’s walls rather than outside in the snow.

Galen struck out again. Rasha rolled to the side to dodge it. He may not have been a rogue, but he was still agile. He got to his feet quickly and swung, stopping the sword with its point mere inches from Galen’s throat. Galen froze, eyes wide. There were murmurs, hushed whispers from the crowd.

It took Galen a moment to regain any semblance of composure. His eyes were glued to the sword’s blade – the magical blade of his own sword had vanished when his concentration had been broken by the startling realization that a sword was pointed at his throat. A hilt was all he held in his hand. Eventually his eyes flicked up to Rasha – emerald green meeting bright blue. Rasha didn’t know if the crowd could see it, but he could see the uncertainty in Galen’s gaze. There was a part of his  _lethallin_  that wanted to give up for the day, that wanted to crawl back into bed and continue resenting himself. But there was also a spark there – a part that was so fucking tired of resenting himself.

_“Again.”_

The order was short, brief,  _hard,_  but it was clearly an order. Rasha wondered if he was sparring with his  _lethallin_  or, as a Blade of Hessarian, his leader.

“I’m tired,” he lied when in reality he wanted to point out that he could see Galen’s muscles starting to shake with exhaustion. He had a feeling that if he or someone else didn’t intervene, Galen would continue until he either got sick, passed out, or both.

Galen frowned. “You’re  _tired?”_

Rasha shrugged. “And a little hungry too.” That part was true. He lowered his sword, planting the blade into the ground and leaving it standing there.

Galen’s frowned turned into a scowl. Rasha guessed he’d figured out his plan.

“I gave you an order.”

Rasha moved, coming to stand mere inches from Galen.

“You need to stop,” he lowered his voice to a whisper, not wanting either of them to be overheard. “Continue and you  _will_  collapse. You need to rest.”

Galen looked at him stubbornly, though he lowered his voice as well. “I know my limits.”

_“Then why are you pushing them?”_

Galen blinked, taken off guard. “I… I have to be stronger.”

Rasha felt a pang of pain, his ears lowering. “You have  _always_  been the strongest man I know.”

They stood in silence for a while, Galen staring at the ground and Rasha watching him with concern. Out of the corner of his eye, Rasha watched as the crowd was dispersed, though he wasn’t sure if Nova, Elaith, or one of their other friends was doing that.

“I’m tired,” Galen spoke softly, looking up at his  _lethallin._

Rasha forced a smile, trying not to show his concern and slung an arm around the other elf’s shoulders. “Let’s go get you some rest.”

**Author's Note:**

> Like/reblog on Tumblr [here](http://magicrobins.tumblr.com/post/162649370675/blade-in-my-hand).


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